She smiled at me. Those beautiful brown eyes looked right at me while that full mouth turned up, showing just a peek of teeth perfected by braces in the seventh grade. Kate Monroe smiled at me.
I think.
The first thing I did when I saw that dazzling smile pointed in my direction was look behind me. Because there was absolutely no reason for Kate Monroe—cheerleader, yearbook editor, goddess sent from above to torture me with her beauty—to smile at me. While we knew of each other because we’d been in some of the same classes since middle school, and we were now both seniors in high school, we’d never been particularly friendly. A few comments shared during class or an “excuse me” while bumping into each other at a doorway (okay, those bumps might not had been entirely accidental on my part) had been the extent of our interactions for years.
So there was no reason for Kate Monroe to smile at me. Except when I looked behind me there was no one else there. No one to my left or right, either. Just me, standing in the middle of the hallway as I came to the slow realization that Kate Monroe may have just smiled at me.
And now it was two periods later and I was still trying to figure it out.
Kate Monroe, whose name I couldn't even break apart in my mind because “Kate” and “Monroe” together made the magnificent person who had overtaken my imagination, was a friendly person. She’d never been a bully, or hung out with people who were jerks. Her group had always been the overachievers who volunteered at the animal shelter on weekends because they liked animals and needed to beef up their college resumes. So it wasn't entirely out of the question for Kate Monroe to just randomly smile at me. She might have smiled at lots of people throughout her day, bringing sunshine and happiness to all around her.
If it hadn’t been made totally clear yet, I had a bit of a crush on Kate Monroe.
But even if Kate Monroe went around handing out her smiles like candy on Halloween, there was something different about the smile that she shot in my direction. It was pulled up just a little bit more on one side, and the look she gave me was almost shy. Though I’d seen the word “coy” used lots of times in novels, this was the first time I would’ve used it in real life. She smiled at me coyly from beneath her extra-long lashes.
That kind of stuff happened in romance novels where there were lords and ladies, and dancing at fancy balls, and ladies got their skirts thrown up over their heads in the rose gardens at midnight.
I may have gone through a phase a couple of years ago. Thank you, public library self-checkout, for saving me from embarrassment about my love of historical romance.
So now I’d spent hours, during which I should have been paying attention to chemistry or calculus (I couldn't even remember which classes I zoned out in!), analyzing a less-than-two-second maybe-moment I’d had with Kate Monroe.
Leaving whatever class I had been in, I wandered in the direction of my locker, automatically dodging other students in the hallway. I would figure out what books I needed for my next classes when I got there. Unfortunately, I was waylaid by the last person I wanted to see—Jenny Jeffries.
I thought about turning around and running in the other direction, or at least trying to veer around her, but it was too late. We were already standing right in front of each other.
“You’re in my way,” she said, staring me down.
Maybe I was sick of being pushed around for years by the person in front of me, or maybe Kate Monroe’s smile had given me a little extra boost of confidence. Either way, I was feeling bold this morning. I refused to give her the satisfaction of backing down. I stared right back at her.
“There’s plenty of space,” I responded. “Feel free to walk around.” Sweat was pooling underneath my T-shirt and my heart was hammering, but I held my ground.
Her eyes narrowed. Good, I was getting to her. We only had a couple more months of school, and then I would never have to see her again for the rest of my life. I had nothing to lose at this point.
My attention was diverted when some kid came barreling down the hallway. He suddenly lost his footing and went sprawling across the floor, books scattering everywhere. Jenny immediately bent down and started gathering his things while I did the same. As I was stacking the last book near me, I saw her help the kid up and hand him his books. He turned to look for the rest, and I stepped up to hand him what I’d gathered. With a parting “Thanks,” he continued his run down the hallway. Jenny and I watched him go until he turned the corner and was out of sight.
Her soft expression vanished when she turned back to me. Her glare could have curdled milk. I gulped. I was pretty sure that if she had come even a centimeter closer to me, I would have backed down and run the other direction as fast as my out-of-shape body could carry me, but luckily I didn’t have to test the strength of my resolve. She finally walked past me, but not before giving me a hard bump with her shoulder.
When she was safely away from me, I let out a sigh of relief and continued to my locker.
I kept my head down, afraid to make eye contact with anyone. I could not handle any more hallway interactions today. I did not know which one was worse. At least with Jenny I knew where I stood. Kate Monroe was a total enigma.
While the idea of Kate Monroe smiling at me was thrilling, it was also confusing. Because Kate Monroe was a girl. And I was also a girl. Kate Monroe had had boyfriends in the past and identified as straight. And I had accidentally come out to my English class as a lesbian a few months ago.
If there was anything the Internet had taught me (which had been much and varied), it was that lesbians should never, ever go for straight girls. Only heartache and disappointment could come from that.
I didn’t know if that was true personally. I had never been on a date with anyone, straight or gay, but it made sense. Approaching someone who was not interested in you, or was interested in only experimenting with you, probably wouldn’t lead to a long-term relationship.
Not that I was looking for a long-term relationship. But a medium-term one would’ve been nice. One with lots of kissing and cuddling would’ve been ideal. Especially if it was with Kate Monroe.
I let my forehead fall to the front door of my locker in dismay. I should not have been entertaining thoughts of a relationship with Kate Monroe because it would never happen. Even if she turned out to be a lesbian, there was no way that Kate Monroe would be interested in me. I wasn’t particularly pretty or funny or smart. My grades were good enough to get me into one of the state schools, but I’d never been ambitious enough to work for anything more than slightly above average. Kate Monroe would only go out with lesbians who were going to go to one of the Seven Sisters schools and double major in biology and fighting the patriarchy.
That was only if Kate Monroe was a lesbian, which she wasn’t, so if she had smiled at me, it was not coyly but most likely friendly, and she probably hadn’t smiled at me anyway.
I took a deep breath and slowly let it out, my head still leaning against my closed locker. Time to leave fantasyland. Kate Monroe would never be interested in me.
“Hi, Haley,” said a voice to my right. I turned my head and immediately stood up straight. Kate Monroe was at my locker and talking to me. “Do you have the notes for history class from yesterday? I had a doctor’s appointment and had to miss class.”
It took me a couple of seconds to respond. I think my brain was shutting down, trying to prevent me from saying something stupid, which was a good move on its part, because what I really wanted to do was babble about how shiny Kate Monroe’s hair looked, and did she always smell so nice, and were those freckles on her cheeks? I had never been so close to her face before. She was now standing next to where I had been resting my face against my locker. She was even more gorgeous up close.
I was finally able to string a few words together that made some sense. “Yeah, I took notes. You can borrow.”
My voice sounded weird, flat and emotionless, and my arms moved on their own, reaching down to my backpack to get my history notebook. Kate Monroe was actually talking to me. This had gone way past smiles.
“Thanks, Haley,” she said. As she took the notebook out of my hand, our fingers were in no way close to touching each other, but I swore I could feel the heat coming off of her skin. I had to suppress a shiver of excitement. At the same time, it was like I was watching the scene take place, like an out-of-body experience.
I was able to get out a “You’re welcome” before Kate Monroe turned and left. But not without giving me a quick smile first.
Two smiles. She knew my name. I had given her my notebook. She had freckles. The girl I liked had talked to me.
All in one day. No way was I getting anything done in the rest of my classes.